


Healing Relations

by noexiiistence



Series: The Road to Recovery [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Genderfluid!Francel, I'm playing a little calvinball with some things but it Works so, M/M, Trans!Haurchefant, based heavily on long standing headcanons, nonbinary OC, unrequited unhealthy infatuation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23899276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noexiiistence/pseuds/noexiiistence
Summary: Getting over heartbreak isn't easy, Francel's finding out, but it's either recover or wallow and neither Haurchefant nor his family will let him do the latter. The next best thing is staying busy and finding other things to love. [Branches off of chapter two of Something To Live For]
Relationships: Francel de Haillenarte/Original Character(s), Haurchefant Greystone & Francel de Haillenarte
Series: The Road to Recovery [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716850
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Everybody Lives AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has a VERY unreliable narrator and a slight warning for blood mentions.  
> Also: this fic has been started during the 2020 pandemic. I mean to post regularly but as a "essential retail" worker it may not always happen. But please, enjoy <3  
> also also: I am using my own timeline for things wherein ARR takes 1 year, 2.x takes 1 year, 3.0 is a year, etc. So the end of 3.0 (around when this starts) is about 8 years post calamity. ages and time spans are adjusted accordingly

Francel isn’t sure what to expect when one of the maids told him that Haurchefant was requesting everyone meet him in the parlor- it wouldn’t be the _first_ family meeting of his life but it was the first to be called by _Haurchefant._ But the maid hadn’t seemed worried despite the fact that she didn’t know what this meeting would be regarding.

Curious, Francel closes the book he was reading and leaves it on the library table as he leaves for the parlor. Mama, father, and Aurvael are already gathered and chatting as he sits in one of the back corners, anxiety telling him that this can’t be good news- not after yesterday’s heretic attack. House Fortemps received the news before everyone else thanks to housing the Warrior of Light and their new friendship with the Lord Commander.

However, the way Stephaniviein was grinning when he walked in the room implies this has nothing to do with that. Francel frowns as he turns his attention towards Haurchefant to try to piece together what could possibly be being announced. Noticing that Haurchefant _also_ seemed nervous, Francel frowns, an expression that deepens when he notices Haurchefant and Stephanivien’s joined hands.

When the announcement comes, all the preparation in the world couldn’t have stopped Francel’s heart from shattering, trying desperately to hide the fact he couldn’t breathe. His hands curl into fists in his lap and he forces himself to look down and away from Haurchefant, ignoring the happy noises from the rest of the gathered family.

Of course, Haurchefant hadn’t _known_ Francel had been hopelessly and madly in love with him for years- he had never _said_ anything after all- but a part of him had always just expected Haurchefant to….. _wait_ for him. With all his time spent at Dragonhead, certainly he couldn’t have been _looking_. And he hadn’t been. Because he had been in a secret relationship. With _Stephanivien_ no less. _Stephanivien_ who had always shunned knightly training to be in the manufactory all day was dating _Haurchefant_ only one of the finest knights Francel had ever known. Stephanivien who was so far from tradition that Francel might have laughed had it not hurt so much. He didn’t even know what hurt worse- the not knowing or the fact that they had been dating _two full years_ before Francel even fell for Haurchefant. Maybe if he had known _then_ it wouldn’t have hurt so much. But he wasn’t given that courtesy, was he?

Quietly, Francel slips from the room while congratulations are being said and conversations fill the air. He didn’t feel well nor much like celebrating with his own world falling in on itself. Silently, he exits the back of the manor and goes to Mama’s greenhouse- which _Stephanivien_ had built after the calamity hit so mama could still have her garden. One of the few credits to his name before recent days. But, Francel supposed, it was more than he, himself, had.

Inside the greenhouse is warm compared to the icy winds and Ishgardian chill outside and Francel takes a moment to adjust as he tries to pull his thoughts into coherence.

For once, he knew what he was feeling when it hit- heartbreak- but he didn’t know what to _do_ about it. Everyone else was so _happy_ , he didn’t want to ruin it. But _he_ deserved that announcement, not Steph. He had wanted it for _fourteen years_ only to learn that even then he had missed his chance, not only by _two years_ but by his _age_ as well- there was no way Haurchefant could have dated him when he was _eleven_ but he had thought that _maybe_ later, maybe once he had done something to earn it. Francel refused to accept this announcement. 

Haurchefant was the commander of Dragonhead! He should at least be dating another knight, or a proper noble man or woman, not _Stephanivien_ who was anything but! Steph spent all his time in the manufactory! He was always surrounded by lowborn! What could he possibly offer Haurchefant? Even as a bastard, Haurchefant was one of the most noble men Francel knew, so what sense did a relationship make? Sure, Francel knew the pair had been friends, at least, his whole life, but _friends_ was different. _Friends_ was work visits and friendly chatter and generally taking care of each other. It wasn’t hand holding and kisses and announcing to their families and the world that they loved each other. Friendship didn’t have your family offering congratulations, didn’t get hugs from your brother, or knowing affectionate smiles from your parents. They could be friends, Francel had never taken issue with that. He never _understood_ it much, but never had an issue with it.

But _dating?_ The thought of seeing them kiss was nauseating. Even the way they had been holding hands turned Francel’s stomach. Did Haurchefant really not notice? Did he not care? Did he not have _standards_ ? All those days of roaming in and outside the city’s walls just to get away from it all, to have an adventure together- all of it meant _nothing_ ? All the memories Francel so cherished, the lessons he learned about running away, about exploring, about Haurchefant’s smile and watching the tension and anger slowly leave his shoulders. Steph wasn’t there for those days, they were spent with _him_.

Frustrated, Francel reaches out and aggressively pulls a rose from it’s bush. The flower itself is undamaged, but a thorn from the stem cuts through his glove and into his hand. With mounting anger, Francel throws the rose on the ground pulling off his quickly staining glove and pulls the thorn from his hand. He was bleeding freely, despite the minor wound, and distantly he finds it bitterly ironic- he _always_ had to fight and bleed and cry for anything he ever wanted, and when he _did_ it always seemed to go wrong. He even had to _convince_ father to give him Skyfire- Father who had handed over the Vigil so easily!- and still felt mama’s worry every time he called home on his linkpearl. They had even called _Stephanivien_ \- who had never fought a battle before!- to fight Svara on _his_ doorstep while telling _him_ to stay inside and focus on healing any potential wounded. His talents were far better suited for healing than fighting, sure, but he wasn’t even given the chance to try, instead calling upon Stephanivien who had _no_ experience on the field! Regardless of the fact that he had specifically asked for this posting to avenge Chlodebaimt, he was denied his chance. Steph got _everything_ these days, it seemed, while all _he_ got was coddled.

But he always thought _love_ wouldn’t be something he spilled blood for. Even after fighting to feel worthy of confessing all these years. He had thought he was close too. Close to where Haurchefant would say yes, would reciprocate. But instead he’s bleeding in his mother’s greenhouse built by the brother who had stolen yet another thing from him. He remembered so many private moments on rivers and in knight encampments, in the markets or elsewhere in the city, remembers _anywhere but here_ , remembers Haurchefant coming along falconing for his eleventh birthday, remembers the smile and laugh he could have sworn were just his. He can’t stand even imagining another hearing it, seeing it, _feeling_ it the way he did, can’t stand thinking about anyone else getting the gentle and reassuring hugs Haurchefant always gave him when he was sad. And it hurts even more to know Stephanivien got all of this _first_ not only was it not just for him, but it was _never_ just his, he was never the first one. This was all merely _friendship_ to Haurchefant, he couldn’t see how deeply in love Francel had fallen, while Stephanivien got all of this and so much more. More that should have been _his_ in a different world.

He watches blood trickles over the side of his palm and drips on the ground and he finally feels the tears well up. He falls to his knees, sniffling and picks up the discarded rose with his still bloody hand. The petals are jostled and a few had fallen off, the signs of it’s mistreatment, and Francel carefully holds it close as he weeps.

It wasn’t fair that Stephanivien gets Haurchefant too. Leaving Francel with only Skyfire to call his own, everything else either no longer or was never his to begin with. Now he wondered if even the knights under his command doubted him, if, perhaps, they only followed out of the memory of Chlodebaimt and the loyalty to his House and never him. He wondered if he could even blame them if it was. His own parents never gave him anything he didn’t ask for, anymore, never any responsibilities or tasks that did not relate back to Skyfire in any direct way. He was in command, but that’s all he was. All he was was a figurehead, surely, just a hand to sign reports and send them on. Just a warm body in a seat. Surely they all thought that, surely they all knew he was unnecessary. But he had been so _sure_ that at least _Haurchefant_ believed in him, that he was still on his side. Believed that _Haurchefant_ would never hurt him. And today shattered even that.

It simply wasn’t _fair_ . His siblings got everything they asked for- even Chlode, before he walked Halone’s Halls- while he was an afterthought. The youngest of five and treated almost as though he was _glass_ . It wasn’t fair and Francel didn’t know how to fix it either. Maybe he _was_ useless and they were all _right_ to look right through him. Maybe he _didn't_ deserve anything he fought for. But he _wanted_ it and _surely_ he deserved something. All he wanted was Haurchefant. Was love and respect from his family instead of pity. But it seemed he would get either.

He doesn’t know how long he’s in the greenhouse before the tears finally stop. But his small wound was now simply a fresh scab and the rose was smashed from being held too close for too long. Delicate flowers. Unlike the rest of his family.

Slowly, he rises to his feet and drops the rose before turning to leave, shoving his bloodied hand in his pocket and keeping his face low to hide the tear tracks in case he runs into anyone. But he makes it to his rooms without incident, moving straight to his bedroom, and tucking himself in bed fully clothed with the lights off. If anyone worried, they knew where to find him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again unreliable narrator and I promise it starts getting better after this one.

It’s the next day before anyone comes by his room for more than making sure he ate something- his family often gave him up to a day before coming to check on him. He knew it was to give him time to process his emotions first, but, at times, he wondered if they even always noticed he had shut himself away. Regardless of reason, Francel knew someone would come check on him soon- normally mama as she was the least likely to be busy and most likely to know what to say or do- so when the knock on his door comes he doesn’t even flinch. Though the voice that followed it was wholly unexpected.

“Francel?” Haurchefant’s voice is muffled by the door but doesn’t fail to make his heart race regardless and he silently curses himself for it. “I wish to speak about yesterday. May I come in?”

He’s not sure he can stand seeing Haurchefant yet, but he was also terrified that turning him away would mean completely losing him- maybe he  _ might _ have a chance if Haurchefant was made to realize who Stephanivien actually  _ was _ , that Haurchefant could do  _ so much better _ . He had been paying attention, clearly, or why else would he be here? How else would he know that they had anything to discuss about yesterday? He at least saw Francel  _ leave _ , surely that meant something. Meant that maybe, just maybe, he might still have a chance at this.

“Go away,” Francel replies, instead. Even if he did have a chance, he didn’t want it to start like this- he didn’t want it born from  _ pity _ . If he had a chance with Haurchefant he wanted it to be meant, to be felt, to be  _ real _ . And nothing starting like  _ this _ ever would be. Heartbreak has never fueled romance before. He wanted to see Haurchefant, certainly, he always did, but he didn’t want  _ Haurchefant _ to see him like this. Not unless he was here to confess his undying and unconditional love- which Francel doubted.

“If that is your wish.” Was he imagining the frown he heard in Haurchefant’s voice? Was the deepened concern real or just wishful thinking? He didn’t trust himself anymore. “However, we should talk about this sometime. I know the news has upset you though I am uncertain as to why and I would-”

“ _ Fine _ ,” Francel half snaps, interrupting him and unable to turn him away for a second time. He couldn’t even remember ever saying  _ no _ to Haurchefant before today. He could hardly break that streak twice in a row. “Come in.” He shifts in his bed, making more room on the edge closest to the door and rolling to face the opposite wall. Allowing Haurchefant in the room did not require looking at him, did not require  _ seeing _ him, as Francel wasn’t sure he could bear it.

Haurchefant turns on a lamp as he enters the room, bringing a point of light into the former darkness and Francel squeezes his eyes closed against the adjustment as Haurchefant sits on the newly cleared edge of his bed, careful not to sit on or even touch him. He’s unsure if he’s bitter about that. Surely he doesn’t keep a careful distance with  _ Stephanivien _ but, of course, that’s the whole problem, isn’t it? The proximity has his heart racing, too, and he doesn’t know if it’s excitement or nerves, or both. All he knows is Haurchefant is less than a fulm away, sitting on his bed and deeply concerned.

“Will you tell me what has upset you so?” Haurchefant’s voice is so gentle and soft and Francel’s almost wants to scream. He feels like glass and it’s through no fault of Haurchefant’s. He feels like a porcelain doll falling from a shelf. He feels like the clocks Stephanivien used to disassemble in the stories Chlodebaimt used to tell him. He feels nauseous. “I do not like knowing I have hurt you so, even on accident, and I would like to help.”

Francel snorts quietly. “Would have thought you would know,” he mutters sullenly. Haurchefant had no reason to know, of course, they wouldn’t  _ be here _ if he did. He would never have broken his heart like that if he knew, he wouldn’t have been subjected to that family gathering. Of course Haurchefant didn’t know. He was perfect, he would never have intended to hurt him. But he  _ did _ . And a perfect Haurchefant would surely have known regardless of being told, regardless of the knowledge of anyone else.

“Is it the dishonesty?” Haurchefant asks, trying to guess. “While I was certain never to lie, I also did never tell anyone I was seeing someone. And while the employees of Skysteel had plenty of reason to suspect, the rest of Ishgard did not and a lie of omission can, at times, be worse than and explicit one. And if that is the reason, I do apologize for it. I hardly thought of the long term when I asked him for secrecy all these years past.”

“It’s not that,” Francel replies before giving a thoughtful pause. “Or-or not  _ only _ that.” Now that it had been voiced, Francel could identify that some of the sting of the revelation was in  _ just how long _ it had been hidden. Like no one could be trusted with it. Like  _ he _ couldn’t be trusted with it. Not that he was disproving that now.

“Will you tell me what it is?” Haurchefant’s voice is still gentle, for all the question sounds like he’s almost pleading and Francel’s unsure how he feels about that being directed at him. It feels wrong. Almost gross. “I simply want to right the pain I have caused you.”

With a dark and wry chuckle that Francel rolls his face into his pillow to stifle, he answers, words lost to the cloth and feathers his face was now buried in.

“What?”

“I  _ said _ -” Francel replies, sitting up almost violently, jostling the whole bed with the single action- “that I’ve been in love with you for years! Ever since you saved my life the first time! And now you expect me to accept that  _ even then _ I had no chance, that it was  _ Stephanivien _ you loved and not me?  _ Stephanivien _ who is so far  _ beneath you- _ ” Francel cuts himself off there at Haurchefant’s pointed frown.

“And who, but me, should decide what is beneath me?” The question is still gentle but it feels like an accusation to Francel. Feels like a knife in his ribs. He had never seen Haurchefant angry at him, and, in truth, did not believe he was now. But he felt the potential there. However, he did not back down.

“You deserve a  _ knight _ ! Or a  _ proper _ noble! Someone  _ better _ !” he insists

“And who gets to decide  _ that? _ ” Haurchefant asks, before he sighs, frown disappearing as well as all traces of potential anger. “I know he has spent most of your life in the manufactory as opposed to at home, and I also know that Chlodebaimt and your father were none too approving of that fact. And, while your father may have changed his mind, no big changes come about in a single night, much less without confronting the problem. Stephanivien is your eldest brother and, as far as I am aware, has not hurt you in any way save, perhaps, his absence. I know there have been rumors about him, some that seem quite believable, too, if one knows very little about him, and I also know he has not gone out of his way to make himself known to you, either. But have you tried to get to know him? Have you asked your father why he has changed his mind? Have you asked your mother why he is allowed his eccentrics?”

“I- I thought….” Francel frowns, almost certain he feels worse now than if Haurchefant  _ had _ actually gotten mad. Now he just feels pitied and lectured and he doesn’t like it. “He never comes  _ home.  _ He’s always surrounded by the lowborn.”

“Do you imagine he forgets he’s not one of them? Never has he forgotten his privilege even in the depths of his work- nay I would say he remembers it far better than  _ most _ when surrounded by those Ishgard has failed. Not all born in her walls are made to walk the path Ishgard would lay for them. Perhaps I make a fair knight after a childhood of fighting for the honor- but he would not despite it being his birthright. Battle was never his passion. While he has a head for strategy and can hold his own in small engagements when he has to, it is not what he was made for, merely skills Ishgard requires of most of her children. He helps our city in a different way, a way only he can. In fact, I feel we need far more like he and less like me. Knighthood and bloodshed should not be the only way to secure a better life, certainly more so with the revelations that have come about as of just yesterday.”

Haurchefant shakes his head, seeming to clear some thoughts from it. “I am a knight and quite proud of it, this is true, and I would choose no other life for myself if given the option. And in being a knight, I have  _ known _ many others. I am proud of all they have done for our fair city- but I know I would never be able to love them as I do Stephanivien. Nor, I think, could they love  _ me _ as he does.

“But you’re  _ perfect _ ,” Francel protests, unable to see how Stephanivien could give him anything he could not receive elsewhere and unable to stop the words before they leave his lips.

“And that is why we could never work,” Haurchefant replies with another shake of his head. “There is much and more about me that you do not know. It would have been rude and unwise for me to have laid my problems at your feet when we met as you were but a child and I was on my way into adolescence. In truth only recently would it have been at all acceptable for me to come to you with any problems of mine own. And even then, I find I struggle with opening my soul to anyone save Stephanivien as I always have. You are a dear friend, Francel, do not doubt that, but there are many sides of me that you may never see. Perhaps hear about, but never lay your eyes upon.”

Francel can feel Haurchefant slipping through his fingers as though he were desperately trying to retain possession of melting snow and he doesn’t know how to hold on tighter. Doesn’t know how to return it to  _ snow _ once it has melted in his hands. He doesn’t know how to make Haurchefant  _ understand _ . He couldn’t see himself the way Francel saw him. If he could, then maybe he would understand, maybe he would see. Maybe he would realize what he’s missing with Stephanivien.

Desperate and throwing all caution to the wind, Francel all but lunges forward, jostling the bed again, and locks his lips with Haurchefant’s before he can react or pull away, gripping the other’s shoulders tightly, fingers digging into the chainmail found there. It last but a second, but in that second Francel registers how deceptively  _ soft _ Haurchefant’s lips are, notes the way his warm breath ghosts over his own lips. He wants to press for more but Haurchefant’s hands are steady on his shoulders and push him off firmly. “Francel-  _ no _ .” He says it softly but firmly and Francel drops his hands and gaze to his lap as Haurchefant stands.

Francel’s heart races as he watches through his lashes as Haurchefant moves across the room. He worries he’s just ruined any chance he had at retaining a friendship after this, but he can’t find it within himself to regret it. Not when it was his first kiss, not when it felt right for the short moment it lasted. He shouldn’t have done it, he knows this, he knows he should feel bad, and perhaps he will later. But now the phantom feeling of long desired lips against his lingered and Haurchefant wasn’t  _ leaving _ the room either.

Haurchefant stands in front of the shelf with Francel’s orchestration rolls and seems to consider each one individually, picking up one here or there to look at. He doesn’t know what’s going on in his mind, but is fairly certain he isn’t thinking about  _ music _ as he gazes at them in deep contemplation. The longer his back is turned, however, the closer Francel comes to panic. Maybe this is what Haurchefant’s like when he’s angry now. Maybe this will be the last he ever sees of the man who has saved his life twice and has held his heart for so long. Maybe-

At last Haurchefant moves from the shelf, one roll in hand, and over to the player a couple of steps to the side. He slides the roll in and music gently fills the air, soft notes breaking the silence that was quickly becoming too heavy to bear. “I understand your desire,” he says at last, just loud enough to be heard over the music. “I have given you much of my time through the years and saving your life more than once can only have deepened your feelings. But you do not know my flaws nor my weaknesses. You do not know the nightmares that keep me up at night nor the times I have had to reach for the nearest voice to remind myself that the past is no longer present. You did not even truly know me before Stephanivien managed to buy me a fantasia so the world would stop seeing me as the girl they thought I was. While you knew of the Countess de Fortemps, you do not know the whole of it, not the things she said to me, nor the countless hours I spent hiding in various locations in the city before I ran with you. You have never observed the moments when Stephanivien was there when no one else was.

“Stephanivien has very well made me the man I am today in more ways than one. The confidence you see, he fostered. The gentleness, he taught. The bravery, he encouraged. Believe it or not. I was quite an emotionally fragile child- still am, at times. He cared for me then, as he does to this day. You should talk to him. You both could learn a number of things from each other and he very well knows me better than I know myself.” The whole time Haurchefant’s speaking, Francel can feel his heart breaking further. Perhaps Haurchefant hasn’t left, but the door is very firmly shut to the idea of leaving Stephanivien. He clearly would consider no other options.

Finally, Haurchefant turns and approaches the bed again and Francel braces, barely allowing himself to breathe as a kiss is pressed to his forehead. “I do love you,” he speaks quietly. “But as a brother and nothing else.” He turns to the door. “I’ll send in your mother- she is quite worried about you.”

And Francel watches him walk out the door before bursting into tears.


	3. Chapter 3

As always, Francel’s return to Skyfire was met with little fanfare- His parents saw him off at the Gates of Judgment, mama fussing as she always did and father offering him a smile for his departure. He wonders how much they were thinking about his most recent bout of depression and wonders if they had considered keeping him home instead of sending him off, wonders what convinced them to send him anyway if they had. Or why not if they hadn’t. He figures, in the end, it didn’t matter, as he climbed on his chocobo for travel back to the Locks.

The ride back to his posting normally had his mind full of plans for the continued support of Skyfire- supplies, staffing, funds, guard rotations, and anything he thought may need tweaked- but it always brought him through Dragonhead and that thought was much more preoccupying on this trip. Would Haurchefant stop him for another talk? Would anyone there know and send him pitying looks as he passed? Had the news reached the _Locks_? He hoped not, the last thing he needed was for his men to have further reason to doubt his abilities.

But he passes through Dragonhead with little more than a few friendly waves to acknowledge his passing. So perhaps they didn’t know. It would make sense- Haurchefant was not the type of man to spread another’s dirty secrets. Whatever else he might claim Francel was wrong about, he knew he was right about that fact. The business was between them and Stephanivien and, he supposed, they would all like to keep it that way. For all Mama seemed like she knew when seeing him off. But that was not a problem he had to face right now.

Instead, for the short rest of his ride, he tries to turn his thoughts to Skyfire. Stephannot, as always, was left in charge in his absence and there would be a full report about the last two weeks he was in the city waiting for him on his desk. He hoped the only reports he needed upon his return were written- he did not feel quite up to extensive interpersonal interaction quite yet. He wasn’t sure how much he could manage in his fragile state. He had yet to compromise his role at Skyfire with his moods and was determined not to let this change that- if he did surely he only proved he was not made for this life that he’d been living since the Calamity.

He rides up to the cabin he stays in while in the Locks and dismounts, unhooking his bag from the chocobo’s saddle and allowing it free to return to either Dragonhead or Ishgard as it was trained. Stepping into the cabin was warm and comfortable and Francel takes a deep breath after closing the door behind him to steel himself. He was at work now. He couldn’t afford his distractions here- not with others around, anyway.

“My lord,” Stephannot greets with a salute. “We heard there was news out of Ishgard but reports seemed vague- Has Thordan truly been slain?”

For a moment Francel merely blinks. He had forgotten history was being made in Ishgard while he had himself locked in his room. He tried to recall. He remembered the heretic attack, he remembered there were conflicted reports after that. The Lord Commander had been imprisoned for heresy? But Haurchefant had helped to free him so that must have been a false charge- surely _Haurchefant_ wasn’t an enemy of the city. He worked too hard to defend her. Why _was_ the Commander being accused of heresy? Francel tries very hard to remember, remembers a mention of something about _equality_ and the original knight’s twelve?

“I am...uncertain as to all the details,” Francel admits at length. “Yes, reports of Thordan’s death came not long before I left the city however he and his knights had fled after a confrontation from the Lord Commander, the Azure Dragoon, and Haurchefant. Dragonhead like as not knows more than I do on the matter. However, the most recent reports are likely true, whatever you may have heard.” He isn’t going to admit that he likely knows less than them as when he’s in one of his moods, current events do not often make it past his walls. And he had not roused from the mood to learn what he had missed before he returned to his post. He should have known- should have thought-

But Haurchefant had seemed more important, somehow.

“We can send a runner up to Dragonhead to ask for specifics tomorrow. Haurchefant should have been back in his seat days ago, surely they all know by now, and like as not they have provisions to share, as they always do. We can gather those and the news to be spread, weather permitting.” He decides, trying very hard to put his own thoughts away. Perhaps the war was waning, but this was still the battlefield- fighting weather as often as dragon- and he needed to focus.

\---

It hadn’t taken long for the news from Dragonhead to spread throughout the Locks, leaving murmurs in its wake. Certainly, it was good news and they all agreed but it was a _change_ and no one was quite sure what that change meant. While, perhaps, Haurchefant had a direct line to the Lord Commander and now acting Archbishop through the Warrior of Light, Francel had no such life line. At best he could hope to hear it second or third hand from either Dragonhead or a call from home after the news reached his parents. The times were uncertain at best, but the role of the Locks remained unchanged so business remained as normal until otherwise instructed.

It was while contemplating this that his linkpearl rang. Instinctively, he answers it. It was only ever one of three people and Mama or father would be worried if he didn’t pick up and he rarely got the chance to talk to Laniaitte.

“How are things?” he hears his sister’s voice and he feels a knot somewhere in him loosen a little. He hadn’t heard from her in over a month and, while that was normal and he wasn’t worried, her voice was always a comforting one.

“There is some uncertainty surrounding most recent news, but the Locks is fairing well. Stephannot says we have not even seen the horde since the attack on Ishgard a few weeks past,” Francel answers leaning back in his chair, setting down the report he had been skimming over. “How are things at the Rosehouse? Heard you were on alert while there was the search for Thordan.”

“Once the Warrior of Light felled Bismark that order was mostly rescinded. Our post was on the other side of the Sea of Clouds, there was little anyone expected us to see or do, it was more formality.” She answers and Francel wonders how she has always seemed so much better than he at leading. How she seemed to understand orders and her ability to read between the lines on even the most official reports while he struggled simply trying to follow orders to the letter.

“At least you were in no danger, then,” Francel replies conversationally. He knew it was a knight’s job to be in danger, but he also knew Laniaitte would understand what he meant.

“Means I was not home for Steph’s announcement. I had to ask mama to give him my congratulations next he was home.” Francel remains silent even after she’s done speaking. He is uncertain where she wants the conversation about this to go and he doesn’t want to misstep, nor does he want to lay his heart bear if she is not looking for it. He had enough people worried about him about this anyway. All the stories he read said time heals heartbreak, after all. So he just needed time.

At his long silence, however, Laniaitte continues. “And how are you faring with the news?”

“W-what do you mean?” Francel stammers out, not expecting the question, not from Laniaitte who he had seldom seen since her posting in the Sea of Clouds but a year before he went to the Locks. Surely she had not been around him enough to suspect anything.

“Francel, I have known you your whole life and you have always worn your heart on your sleeve for anyone to see who bothered to know you.” He can hear some gentle amusement in her tone. “Do not face this alone, this is what siblings are for.”

“I don’t-” Francel frowns into his lap. Of _course_ she knew. All of Ishgard may as well have known. He may as well attract pointing and staring and laughing and pity. Oh look at the poor fool who dared to fall in love with a man he cannot have.

“You need not speak about it now, if you do not wish, but I wanted you to know I knew,” she says gently. “And I’m here for you.”

Francel swallows thickly. “I kissed him,” he admits quietly, glancing at the door to the room and willing no one to walk through it any time soon.

“You- when?”

“He- he came to talk to me about it. I could not bear to stay while- while the rest of them gave congratulations so I left and he noticed and so came to speak to me the next day and I- I was desperate. I thought- well.” he swallows again, feeling tears pricking the back of his eyes.

“Did you apologize?” She asks. It’s not an accusation, it’s gentle. He can almost imagine the way her fingers might trail through his hair to comfort him were she here.

“I- no. He- he did not seem so upset. I- I will apologize next I see him. It didn’t- the thought to do so did not occur to me.”

“It _was_ an invasion,” Laniaitte presses, as though he did not already feel guilty for his actions.

“I know,” his reply is quiet, trying to keep back tears. “I simply- I have loved him for so long.”

“I know, I remember how you always looked after a day out with him. However, you cannot let that ruin what you had. You have a good friend in him and he, like as not, is willing to salvage that if you are.”

“I am.” But was he? Did he think he could look at Haurchefant and not allow himself to show his pure love and adoration? Was he certain he could be okay with any of this? The thought of seeing them kiss was still all it took for him to feel sick. He had yet to even see them both in the same room again since and he wasn’t sure he could handle that. Could he truly say he wanted to salvage the friendship when, in his heart, he knew he couldn’t let go yet?

“Remember, love is about _their_ happiness over yours. No matter how it might hurt you, you should want him happy. And he seems to be with Steph. He is a good man, he won’t flaunt it, but nor should they have to deny it for you. I imagine sixteen years was hard enough on them.” Laniaitte’s voice is still gentle and Francel feels fragile again.

“I want him happy with _me_.” he replies petulantly. “Stephanivien has gotten _everything_.”

“And he was also the black sheep until recently. Be patient, Francel. You are still young, if you do not close your heart off you may yet find love again, and this time in someone who returns the sentiment.”

“You have never dated,” Francel replies, sniffling and wiping at the few tears starting to fall. “How would you know how this works?”

“You know,” she says thoughtfully. “Perhaps Emmanellain is rubbing off on me.”

Despite his tears, that surprises a laugh out of him and he can almost hear her smile all the way in the Sea of Clouds.

“I will leave you to your thoughts and work. Do not hesitate to call me should you need? Even should I be busy I will return your call later.”

“Of course, Lani,” he replies with another sniffle. “Thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

News of the war’s end settled easily over Skyfire, much to Francel’s surprise. While there were still some who were uncertain how to proceed, and others still finding it difficult to adjust to calling heretics allies now after generations at war, none were actively resisting. It made Francel proud, even if he felt he was not the cause of it, nor was he likely even the rallying point for them. He found himself preoccupied with his own issues just as often as he did the issues of Ishgard. But it did mean the Central Highlands were much quieter, their only real concerns being weather and how long their supplies would last, which  _ also _ meant many calls and letters from home for anyone with anyone still at home. Things were changing there, people were reaching out.

And Mama did always tend to worry.

“There was chaos in the city today,” she says and Francel can tell simply by her voice she’s out tending her garden. She always seemed calmer there.

“What happened?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. He never knew how long a conversation with his mother could last, so he always made sure he had no pressing concerns before engaging with her- she understood, he knew. He was hardly the only one of her children in this line of work.

“Your father told you about the fires when you spoke yesterday, yes? Well, Edmont told us that the investigation led them to a priest- likely also behind the attempted assassination of the Lord Commander. The whole thing ended up with the poor dears who lost their homes held hostage in the Vault. Supposedly one of the priests held a poor girl out the window high up in the Vault and dropped her and then a dragon saved her.” She hums. “I am uncertain how much I believe but it  _ is _ quite a good story. And quite frightening to see a dravanian darken our skies. Truce or no, I do believe it will take a while for anyone in the city to adjust to seeing a dragon in our skies.”

“Sounds terrifying,” Francel admits freely, remembering his own encounters with Dravanians, few big enough to save a falling child. “Was everyone alright?”

“For all the commotion was not far, your father and I remained at home. As for those present, I believe all save those who fought  _ against _ the Lord Commander and his party survived. Some worse for wear, as one would expect from a kidnapping, but all was well. He is doing quite well leading the city and trying to keep the peace in these times.”

Francel hums his approval. “Full glad am I you are unharmed.”

“How have things been there?” He almost hears the snip of scissors in the background and closes his eyes, trying to imagine her pruning her garden, apron across her lap, gardening gloves on and likely light dirt stains. He remembers helping her with it sometimes when he was younger. It felt like another life.

“Mostly quiet. It seems as though you are getting all of the news worth reporting. I was considering asking father to allow a lighter duty here as we have seen little occasion for fighting and it sounds like more hands might be good for Ishgard.”

“And how are  _ you _ ?” The question is pointed and, while it is one she always asks, Francel can tell by the tone she’s asking something specific. And he knows what it is.

He groans quietly. “Lani told you?”

“Told me what?” She had never been a great liar, and while he  _ knew _ she knew, now, he also could tell it wasn’t from Laniaitte. He wondered if he truly was so open a book, if  _ everyone _ in Ishgard now knew about his unfortunate affections for the man who would rather date his brother. He had always preferred to keep his thoughts private and yet they seemed to spill forth wherever he walked now.

“I am fine,” he sighs, not completely lying. “Haurchefant is sending his normal support from Dragonhead but leaving me to sort things out in my own time. And I am fine.”

“Are you?” she presses, knowing his tells even over linkpearl. He imagines her setting aside her gardening shears and looking at him with her level look that often seemed to see through any half truth he told her.

“I-I haven’t talked to him again,” he admits quietly. “I mean to but it- the idea hurts and I know not what to say. We cannot simply pretend this has not happened and he- I do not know how he will take my approach if I do.”

“Whatever you want, he is likely to follow your lead. It is your decision if you continue your friendship, but I am also certain he would understand if you so not wish to. Or at least respect your wishes.”

“I do not know, mama,” Francel admits, quietly. He hadn’t even truly admitted such to himself until now. He had told Laniaitte a moon or so ago that he wished to maintain the friendship, but did he? The thought of speaking to him still hurt. But was that from avoiding it or was it because it simply  _ did _ ? He didn’t know.

“Well, then you must figure that out, dear. No one will force you to do what is uncomfortable for you, but do also be aware of those around you. Your indecision will affect others. If things remain uneventful there, perhaps you can take more time to think on it.”

“What would you suggest?” he asks, at a loss. There must be a correct answer but if there was, he couldn’t find it, not on his own, not as he was. Was that cowardice? Weakness? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to consider it.

“Well,” she hums. “He always was a good friend of yours. I have seen heartbreak ruin it’s share of friendships, and that is fine enough, but with you and Haurchefant often working together and, perhaps, running into each other while in the city, it could breed resentment. Stranger things have happened. So I suggest you talk to him again. And Steph, if you have yet to. And then you can decide.”

Francel sighs. “I’ll try, mama.”

“I know you will dear.” he can hear the smile in her voice and, despite the lingering pain, he feels its warmth.

\-----

With his father’s approval and a signing sheet for interest, Francel manages to give many of the knights under his command time to visit Ishgard for at least a few days, and, for many, it was the first time in a long time since they had gone home. Either they had little left in the city to return to or duty compelled them to never leave their post, remembering that it only took Steel Vigil but a few bells to fall. But the war was over, and less hands meant less mouths to feed and the further their supplies stretched. And it just so happened that, when word came that Aymeric was planning a conference between man and dragon, many of those under his command were still in the city and he gave them leave to stay a few days extra to attend should they wish.

And it was with their return that the news of it’s failure reached Skyfire.

Frustrated, Francel paces alone in his room, asking Stephannot to guard the door to give him time alone to think. Of course, peace with the Dravanians did not bode well for him  _ either _ seeing as he, too, had lost a loved one to the hoard. But if it were true and man was the true betrayer, as the heretics said, and Ishgardian doctrine was wrong, then was it not up to them to lay down their swords? Had just as many heretics and dragons not died as Ishgardians?

Haurchefant would know these things. He would have an idea, a solution. But even had he not been in Ishgard to attend the conference, and was currently remaining there, as far as he knew, he was far from ready to speak to Haurchefant yet, knowing full well his feelings on other matters would bleed through. So he was on his own with this decision. Father would back whatever choice he made, need be, so he had to make the right one.

He puts any other requests to return to the city on hold with apologies and doubles the watches. If Ishgard wanted war, then there was no telling how far they may go to achieve one. He told the men to watch for Ishgardian and heretic alike and told them to stop anyone who seemed even remotely suspicious. He learned his lesson about blind trust two years past when he had been accused of heresy and now he would rather suffer for an abundance of caution, than a lack of it.

Still, despite the planning and safeguards, he found his mind wandering back to Haurchefant. He’d heard it was Emmanellain who gave the ill conceived order- and he believed such too. While he had never been  _ close _ with the youngest of the Fortemps boys, what he did know about him was that he was not made, nor trained, to lead anything, much less be in charge of a conference of that import. He wondered if Haurchefant was comforting him right now. Wondered if Emmanellain got the same treatment Francel had. Haurchefant  _ did _ say he saw him as nothing more than a brother, after all.

The thought, however, does not disgust him as much when he considers Haurchefant comforting Emmanellain. In truth, Haurchefant  _ hadn’t _ ever done such to even suggest that he returned Francel’s feelings, that had always simply been wishful thinking on his part, and what so disgusted him about Haurchefant’s relationship with Stephanivien was imagining their  _ intimacy _ . By all accounts, as much as he could annoy Lani, Emmanellain needed and deserved more attention than he got from his family. Less, Francel speculated, than even he himself received.

He found himself pitying Emmanellain, even while he wished Haurchefant was here to put his arms around  _ him _ and to advise him how to next proceed.

What would Haurchefant do? Perhaps, like he said, he was not perfect as a man, but he was a knight, and Francel had never known him to make a decision in error. He trusted with his heart and his gut and he would bet his life on it time and again and he had yet to  _ lose _ . But when Francel tried to do the same it often ended poorly. What was he missing?

He paces the room a few more times, before sighing and calling for Stephannot to come back in and return to his post, hoping that a pair of eyes in the room may keep him from sinking too far into anxiety and despair. There was little he could do with Skyfire at this junction anyway. It had never been a  _ strong _ post, and Francel knew it. He knew that was why father gave it to him in the first place. But he refused to let it fall to his own carelessness, even more so if said carelessness was caused by a grieving and broken heart for a man he never could have had in the first place.

With a sigh, Francel sits at his desk and pulls over his ink and quill, penning a letter to Dragonhead, requesting both advice and aid of any supplies they may be able to spare as the weather would turn tough again soon and he was uncertain their stores would last long in such. He does not write of the other matter, for all he thinks of it with every stroke of ink. He knows Haurchefant will be able to read between the lines, though, perhaps, it may be Yaelle who answers him- it depended on how long Haurchefant lingered in Ishgard. But still, he signed it as though to Haurchefant, and set it aside to send the next chance he had of getting a running through to Dragonhead safely. But, as now it was nearing night time, he would not send anyone with the note yet.

And so the letter sat on his desk, Haurchefant’s name written in Francel’s flowing hand, and waited to be sent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to stress over Real World Events, updates are likely to be postponed or otherwise delayed. But this fic will continue, this I promise, I have plenty more planned.


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